Only You Can Save Me
by A Thing For Brothers
Summary: The workings of my mind that kept me from writing well for my ongoing story. Charlie and Don angst. Set a month after Margaret's death. Charlie is locked inside himself and only Don has the key. I fixed the mistakes, BTW.


**This story is based on the song "How to Save a Life" by The Fray. I do not own that song, that band, the writers of the song, the producers of the song...**

**As with Numb3rs, I don't own the characters, I don't own the actors, the writers, the creators, the producers, the directors...**

**Get the point? It's not mine! This is just the workings of my brain based on their works.**

**Enjoy! And forgive me if it seems like an overdone story idea. This was just my brain. I didn't do it!**

_How could I go a whole month without seeing him? Even when I was at Quantico I had at least spoken to him._

Don Eppes wondered these things as he drove to his childhood home. It had been over a month since his mother had died. Always feeling better with someone to blame, Don found his little brother to be the easy target.

Charlie hadn't been there for their mother for the last three months of her life. He hadn't gone to see her. He just spent all his time in the garage. Don used those facts to justify why he had ignored his brother for a whole month. But even with that, it didn't help.

Don had spoken to his father, who lived in the same house as Charlie. He gave his son updates on Charlie's condition, and always threw in a subtle plea for help that Don ignored.

But no more. Don knew he had to step in. Something had to be done. It had been a month since he'd spoken to Charlie. And even then the anger could be heard plainly in his voice. He had blamed his brother at their mother's funeral. To add to his list of justifications, Charlie had left before the burial was over.

Don pulled into the driveway. When he got out of the car, he could see that the house was mostly dark. He stepped inside the house and saw that the home looked almost uninhabited.

When Don walked into the kitchen, he found his father making a variety of food, one that had only one common factor: they were all Charlie's favorite foods.

"Hey, Dad," Don said as he came up to his father. When Alan turned to his son, Don got a full look at how affected Alan was by his wife's death and his son's absence from reality.

"Dad, are you okay?"

"I-I have to get him to eat."

Alan returned to preparing the tray of food. The assortment of foods included a slice of apple pie, cheese and crackers, steak, french fries, toast, oatmeal, and a banana. Something had to work. Alan had to believe that.

"Dad, you're dead on your feet. Sit down, please." Don took hold of his father's arm and started to pull him away from the counter.

"No, Donny!" Alan screamed, louder than he had meant to be.

When Don flinched away, Alan took a deep breath before talking again.

"I can't do it, Donny. I can't lose your brother, too. Not now. Not ever."

Don's eyes watered over. He hated seeing his father like this. The last time they had talked, Alan hadn't seemed so bad. Don wished he would have stepped in sooner.

"It's okay, Dad. I'll bring this out to Charlie, all right? Go upstairs and lie down for a bit."

"O-Okay. But, not in my bed." Alan spoke the last part quietly, but Don still heard.

"What?" Don said before Alan could leave the room.

"I can't sleep there. Not yet. I'm not ready."

"Okay, Dad. Just, get some sleep, okay?"

Alan nodded and went up the steps to Don's old room, even though it wasn't likely Charlie would be using his bed.

Don carried the overstuffed tray of food out to the garage, but almost dropped it at the sight of his little brother. He hadn't known it would get this bad. He could feel guilt gnaw at his insides. No wonder their father was so upset.

Charlie's haggard appearance was the first thing Don saw. His eyes were surrounded by dark circles, his clothes hung off his too-thin form. With frantic movements, Charlie moved from board to board, writing numbers as he went.

"Charlie?" Don spoke as he set down the tray. Charlie moved continuously as he wrote on the board.

"Buddy, talk to me." Don placed a gentle hand on his brother's arm.

Charlie turned, recognized his brother, and went back to writing.

"Charlie, I want to talk to you. Can you stop writing?"

Charlie shook his head as he wrote faster on the board.

"Come on. Can't we talk?"

Charlie turned to his brother and gave him a weak smile, if you could call it that.

"Charlie, I'm sorry I haven't come over. You have to stop this, though, understand? It's starting to affect Dad. Please, stop this."

Charlie could hear his brother, but there was nothing he could do. He was who he was. He couldn't change that.

"Here. At least eat something," Don said as he held out the banana. He felt like a zookeeper, trying to coax a monkey closer to the fans.

Charlie just kept walking farther away, but Don followed close behind.

"Eat it!" Don screamed angrily, trying to break through to his brother, but it wasn't working.

Don watched as his brother moved to the board farthest away from him.

"Fine! Be like that. See if I care! I don't know why I came here in the first place. It's not like you'd actually do something different. It's not like you'd stop to protect your own father!"

Don stormed out of the garage and slammed the door as hard as he could.

The only thing that made him feel better was seeing his father asleep. With one last look toward the garage, Don went out to his car. He shook his head, knowing there was no way he could reach his brother when mountains separated them.

--

Charlie knew his brother's every move when he had been there. He had recognized his brother's absence. He knew how long it had been since he'd seen Don. He knew what Don said to him. He knew his father was hurting. He knew he was becoming a burden on his father. He knew. But that didn't mean he could do anything about it.

Charlie was locked inside his own mind, held prisoner by the thoughts that never stopped. From what he could tell, no one had the key to unlock him from his cage. He could see everything, feel nothing physically, but could hurt so badly he didn't want to leave his cage... because that would mean the real world could touch him. And that was something he couldn't handle.

Charlie could only cry as he thought about leaving his family alone. He felt bad. He wanted to help them, wanted them to help him. But he was too afraid of getting hurt... because now he didn't have his mother to heal his wounds.

--

Don, alone in his apartment, was engulfed with guilt. He couldn't get enough air as it strangled him, clogged his lungs. Anger had fought guilt away for a few hours, but now that he was alone, guilt won over his attention.

He didn't want to be mad at his brother, but he was. He knew he had to let go of it before he could truly reach Charlie. But it was hard. He had to have someone to be mad at. It made pain go away. It made the grief leave him alone. At least then it was someone's fault.

But Don couldn't honestly blame their mother's death on Charlie. Charlie wasn't capable of creating cancer. He hadn't willed his mother to die, hadn't pulled a trigger. No, he had just been nonexistent when their mother had needed both her sons. Everyone else had done their part, but Charlie hadn't. So who else was there to blame?

No one. That was what Don couldn't face. It was just something that happened. Margaret Eppes hadn't deserved to die, to get cancer. No one gave it to her. That wasn't how it happened.

So there was no reason to blame, even Charlie. And without someone to blame, it hurt more.

Margaret hadn't died because someone attacked her. She didn't die because she was old. She didn't die saving someone. She wasn't a victim in a case, just a victim of cancer. She was family. And it hurt because she wasn't there anymore. Don couldn't call her on the phone, couldn't write her letters, couldn't feel her arms around him. She wasn't coming home late after helping a friend. She wasn't coming home from Princeton with Charlie. She was gone.

Gone.

And that's why it was killing him. That was why now, when there was no one left to blame... Don truly cried over losing his mother.

--

The next day, Don couldn't stop feeling bad about his brother and how he had ignored him. That wasn't what he had meant to do, but he had. He had been neglectful. Charlie had needed his brother, but Don wasn't there.

So he would be now.

Don went back to his home and went out to the garage first thing. Alan was in there with Charlie, just watching his son work. He didn't notice his oldest come in until Don was nearly by his side.

"Hey. What's going on?" Don asked gently.

"Nothing. That's all that ever happens with him."

"Can I talk to him? Alone?"

Alan nodded. "I'll be in the house."

Don touched Alan's arm lightly as they passed, then he went straight to his baby brother.

"Buddy?" Don reached out and rested his hand on his brother's shoulders. Charlie shook it off, as though it was an incredible weight.

"I'm so sorry about yesterday, Buddy. I was taking my anger and pain out on you. I-I didn't mean to. Can you forgive me?"

He didn't get a response, but that seemed normal, according to Alan.

"Buddy, please. Talk to me," Don begged.

When his brother remained indifferent to his pleading, Don sighed.

"Fine. Just listen then. I know... I know you're really hurting right now. We all are, you know? We need each other to get through this. I know I haven't been honoring that, and I apologize. But now we all need to fight this together. We need to move on, and we have to face it together head on. We can get through this, Buddy. I promise. You know it.

"Just come back to us now, okay? It'll stop the pain, Buddy. I know it will. Just, please, we need you. If not for yourself, do it for me and Dad. Please."

The only response Don got was when Charlie slowed his writing. He paused a beat, but then continued what he had been doing.

Don blew out his breath and shook his head sadly. "I-I'll be back tomorrow. Okay?"

Don walked out, not knowing what more he could do. He just hoped that the words had gotten through to his brother. Maybe then it could make a difference.

--

Charlie cried out when his brother began to leave.

"Don't go, Donny! Please, stay! Please!" Charlie begged, but his words went unheard.

He wanted to make his brother understand. He didn't want to hurt them, just... he didn't want to be hurt again. He loved his mother, but trying to deal with her impending death had been too much for him. He couldn't sit there, counting the seconds, wondering when would be her time. Charlie couldn't handle that. So he came here, his safe haven. It was the only thing that could protect him. He needed it.

Yes, Don just didn't understand. No one did. Charlie hoped his mother had. She'd always known him so well. She must have known. Hadn't she?

--

Don hit the gym, not knowing where else he could take out his frustrations so easily. He had to reach his brother, but he didn't know how. Charlie just wasn't hearing him. One way or another, Don would break through. He had to. He owed it to his mother.

Don pulled his fist back and landed a solid punch on the punching bag. The connection felt good and he jabbed again. He led with his left, just a few lighter punches. Then he got in his right hook.

Soon he built up a rhythm and it never wavered. Punch after punch Don would give. And with each punch came a memory centered around Charlie.

"He's always been so fragile, Donny. Be gentle," his mother's voice told him. "Be careful with him. He's not as strong as you are."

"Take care of your brother for us. Your mother and I know you can handle that."

"Don, thank you... for being here. It's been... it's been hard."

Charlie's voice in his head stopped him.

Charlie had said that to Don when he'd come home seven months ago. How bad had it been before then? How come he'd never found out? Had it been so hard on his little brother? Had he failed to protect Charlie?

Angry with himself, Don sped up his rhythm, putting more force behind each blow. He didn't notice the tears, not until he was sobbing. It slowed him down until he couldn't catch a breath.

Don hugged the punching bag as he fell forward, catching his breath. His tears wet the bag and he knew several people were staring. He didn't care.

Wiping his eyes, Don pushed back from the punching bag moments later. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and left the gym. He had to go to his brother because there was no way he could wait until tomorrow to see him.

Charlie was as he had left him hours before. The sadness on his face was still there, as well as the unawareness of the rest of the world.

Don hadn't seen his father when he went through the house. He assumed he was in bed, considering it was late.

"Charlie, listen to me. This has to stop. Now. I need you, Buddy. I love you. You have to stop doing this to yourself, to Mom. Do you think she would want to see you like this? She needed us to be strong together. She knew we'd be okay if we were together. And you know what? We're not okay right now because we aren't together. We're all in our own little worlds, dealing with our grief our own way. Well, it's time for that to stop, you hear me? It's time for us to come back together. That's what Mom wanted and that's what we need. Come on, Charlie."

Don waited, praying for an answer or a response. Of course he got none... that he knew of.

Charlie screamed out in pain as the sword pierced his heart. The real world was let in when the bars of his cage melted away. Don had done that. But was Charlie ready to step out into the world again?

Don saw it. Charlie paused in his writing, dropped the piece of chalk. He had gotten through. Suddenly, Charlie began to fall and Don reached out and grabbed him from behind.

Charlie felt his brother's arms around him, felt his back against Don's chest. It was the first time he had felt anything in a long time. And he realized he had stepped out of the cage and back into himself.

"It's okay, Buddy. I've got you," Don reassured his brother when he felt all of Charlie's weight lean against him.

"D-Don?" Charlie's voice was scratchy and hoarse, having been unused for so long.

Don sighed with relief as tears of joy came to his eyes.

"Yeah, Buddy, I'm here."

"Don," Charlie sighed out the name as he began to slip from his brother's arms.

"I got you." Don lowered his brother to the nearby couch before Charlie fell to the floor.

Charlie stared around the room with wide eyes. Feeling suddenly exposed and vulnerable, he tucked himself into a ball and whimpered loudly.

"What? What is it?" Don asked hurriedly, not knowing what had bothered his brother so quickly.

"I... I don't want to get hurt again," Charlie cried, shielding his face from view.

Don's heart went out to his brother. Was that why he had stayed locked away?

"No one's going to hurt you, Buddy. I'll look after you."

Charlie peaked out at his brother. "But it... hurts. So bad."

Don reached out and grasped his brother's boney shoulder.

"I know. We'll be okay, though, all right? You, me, and Dad. We're going to get through this together."

Charlie's eyes showed a sudden recognition and soon his eyes filled with tears. "Mom."

Seeing his littler brother cry out for their mother nearly broke Don's heart. He had to stop this pain his brother was experiencing.

Don got on the couch beside his brother and hugged him tightly, trying to absorb Charlie's pain and add it to his own. Charlie sobbed out his grief and pain. Only when he was done did he feel somewhat human.

"I... I always knew. All this time."

Don frowned in confusion. "Knew what, Buddy?"

"That only you could save me."

Don smiled and hugged Charlie again. "I'm here now, Buddy... whenever you need saving."


End file.
